


The Beginning Is Often The End

by Weird Science (setoboo)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Dark Comedy, Hermann Is Not Going To Be Happy, M/M, Macabre, Minor Character(s), Minor Themes Of Codependency, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Character Death, Running Away, Terminal Illnesses, The Drift (Pacific Rim), or something like it, with dashes of humor, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setoboo/pseuds/Weird%20Science
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his gambit with the Kaiju. In throwing his mind into his scrapped together Pons and diving right into the heart of an Alien Hive-mind. He had forgotten the one golden rule of Rock and Roll stardom.</p>
<p>Legends die young.</p>
<p>---------<br/>Or; Newton believes he's going to die, and instead of telling anyone decides he's going to hole away in America and wait for the inevitable. Hermann, slowly, puts the pieces together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like A Dying Star

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be short. 2k at most. It has since spawned into an 11k monster, and is still growing. I decided to post what I have since I'm doing NaNoWriMo. Unfortunately this means everything has been self edited. So there is likely a lot of errors. If anyone wants to beta this beast let me know, I'd be glad for the help.
> 
> Title is from a quote by T.S. Elliot  
> "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

Newton looks at the test again.

The results are the same as when the computer had spit out the findings two minutes ago.

He closes his eyes. Counts to ten in English, then German, then for the hell of it, Japanese. Opens his eyes, and hopes the reading will have miraculously changed in the thirty seconds he wasted.

It hasn't. The numbers stay the same. Stark and factual on white printer paper, just like they have been the other three times he's run the test. Nothing has changed in any instance.

“ _Numbers do not lie._ ” To quote one of Hermann's more customary sayings.

Newt can barely bring himself to be annoyed that his mind has supplied the phrase in Hermann's actual voice. A sound clip burned into his memory either by sheer repetition, or from the Drift. It was getting difficult to tell.

He's always wanted to be a Rockstar. Wanted the fame and adoration that came with it. ' _Newt Geiszler'_ would be a household name he had sworn to himself. He would shake the world through science and be catapulted to the stars because of it. He was going to be a Legend. Not some one hit-wonder. But a true blue, honest to God, Legend.

But, in his gambit with the Kaiju. In throwing his mind into his scrapped together Pons and diving right into the heart of an Alien Hive-mind. He had forgotten the one golden rule of Rock and Roll stardom.

Legends die young.

In his hands are the numbers that have brought that grim fact blaring back to mind. Legends don't get to grow old and die. No, they die while the fire of their accomplishment burns brightest. Etching their memory into everyone’s mind through tragedy and grief.

The numbers are sound. _The numbers do not lie._ Newt has finally become the Rockstar he always wanted to be, and it seems he is fated to truly become a Legend.

Two months. Tops. That's the generous side of the time line if he's being honest. It seems to be closer to a month and some odd days.

He had really busted up his head in the first Drift. Going alone had been absolute stupidity. ( _Necessary stupidity of course. He had been right after all, it just sucked he had to be right and still die_ ) Then doing it again, even with the neural load lessened with Hermann's intervention, hadn't stopped the _Precursors_ from tearing at him with a vengeance. They knew Newton, had felt his mind join and leave in the first Drift. Which if there is one thing you do not do in a Hive-mind -- it's leave. They seem to get pissy about that. They also hadn't taken too kindly to Newt reappearing suddenly after their two ( _three, if they counted the baby_ ) Kaiju had died either.

So while Hermann had been able to find the information the PPDC needed to stop the _Precursors'_ plan. It had only been due to the sheer fact that every Kaiju and their Mother ( _or what equated to one_ ) had been tearing at Newton's already abused head and had conveniently not noticed the second Human mind in the Hive. Or they had, and hoped by taking the already wounded mind out they would kill two birds with one stone. Either way, Hermann and Newt had managed to get in and out with what they needed. Saving the world through reckless bravery and science.

After KV-Day, and the ensuing two days of none stop ' _holy-shit-we-saved-the-world_ ' partying had passed, Hermann had undergone test after test to scan himself. Making sure beyond a measure of a doubt that his mind had not been damaged in the Drift.

Newt had avoided every sober Doctor that was looking for him, and made half formed promises to the still hammered ones he ran across he would get checked out eventually. He was pleased when Hermann was pronounced healthy, suffering no more damage then some busted vessels in the eye and maybe an odd case of Ghost Drifting during the night at the most. Otherwise unhindered by being dragged into Newton's mad gamble.

Hermann was fine.

Newt had sort of known he wasn't going to be. 

In the end he had started running tests on himself out of morbid curiosity. He had expected brain damage. Maybe some seizures. Reoccurring nose bleeds at the least. He'd actually been waiting on the Waking Drifts some of the original Jaeger pilots had suffered. Those who had gone _alone_ into piloting the prototypes and had massive episodes where they still felt connected to the robots. Forgetting their bodies for hours as they hallucinated.

The thought had terrified him, being stuck believing he was a Kaiju/Precursor/anything related to the Anteverse for hours will do that too a person.

But, it hadn't happened. Some days he could still find the thread that connected him to Hermann if he was so inclined to do so. Which he wasn't. It was too much like temptation to hold on to that thread and not let go. If he grabbed at their connection he would drag Hermann down with him, and he wasn't willing to do that. Not again.

It had been the only major mental change though. Much to his surprise. He got nose bleeds every few hours, routine enough that he could thankfully hide them from Hermann, who was busy in and out of the lab everyday. Talking to his family ( _or answering the phone just to hang up, viciously, when his Father called_ ) about finally coming home to visit now that the Breach was closed. They were insistent he come immediately. Hermann wasn't having it.

Newt had never been so happy about the Gottleib family issues as he had been during the days it gave him to test in private. He had to be quick of course, but once he had enough samples and run some scans. He could run the numbers at his leisure without having to worry about Hermann swooping in. Demanding to know what he was doing.

It was just unfortunate his feeling was proven right. Again, again, and again. Then for good measure one more time. A month-to-two. Every paper said it. He wasn't suffering debilitating hallucinations. Not yet. Maybe he wouldn't ( _though it seemed unlikely he was that lucky_ ) but his brain was going to shut down without much fanfare either way.

Ha, shut down. Like it was a computer that just needed to reboot. Only not like that at all. More like a computer that had been shocked, then attacked with a magnet, and was steadily loosing power. Or like a brain that had been attacked by an alien Hive-mind of pissed off creatures and was not equipped to handle that kind of neural trauma. Yeah, we're gonna go with that last one. Since it's what actually happened and wasn't a shitty computer metaphor.

' _Be careful what you wish for_ ' seems to be his life motto. When he was little he'd loved Godzilla and had wished for him to be real, cue Trespasser and the damn Apocalypse. Then he'd wanted to see a Kaiju up close, cue Otachi trying to eat him and her baby trying it's damnedest to finish the job.

He had wanted to be a legendary Rockstar scientist. Cue one badass victory and one quick ass death to follow.

He seems to get the things he wanted in the most unwanted of ways.

Shaking the morbid thoughts off, Newt quickly gathers up his printed papers and takes them over to the shredder. Carefully feeding each sheet through until the solid evidence of his quickly approaching fate is destroyed. He then tosses all his bodily samples into the Kaiju waste bin ( _since Hermann won't go within four feet of it._ ) and swings back to the computer to start purging the remnants of his clinical tests. Determined to wipe everything clean.

Hermann isn't going to know - No one - is going to know. He's pissed at the world right now, but honestly made his peace before he even drifted the first time and left that terrible note for Hermann to find. Dieing was a very real threat when drifting alone, and he'd been willing to court the reaper twice in 24 hours. So maybe the reality just hasn't set in yet, but he knows he's going to be fine. Dead and pissed. But fine. He's done his job. Achieved his dreams. Or at least a few of them. He never did get to sleep with Hermann ( _which is a tragedy worthy of furiously smashing the keyboard as he types._ ) So it's not like he's got much going for him in the future.

He would have just rode the tails of this success until he burned out and was hired at some college to teach. Maybe he could have stuck it out with Hermann. Made another decade of flung insults and barbed humor together. Which would have been weird right? Sounds a little too much like being married. And everyone knows Newt Geiszler isn't marriage material. Hermann will find someone to snipe at and be overbearingly intelligent towards. Maybe a nice theoretical physicist, or a model. Hell, Hermann helped save the world. He can have his pick of the masses now. A nice harem of beautiful and intelligent women would serve the dude right.

He won't need Newton there to drag him down.

It's better this way. He'll go out quick as a flash to everyone, instead of a painful month-and-some-odd-days of seeing people pity him. Legendary Rockstars don't get pity. They're found dead in hotel rooms and the back of tour buses. Legends don't get sick. Legends get _taken._ Snuffed in seconds too the mortal eye. So that's what he'll do.

Newt will just be normal until he can't. Then suddenly, and quietly, die.

Maybe he should go back to America. Find some place along the remaining San Fransisco coast and hole up there.

It seems fitting. A nice symmetry to end with. His dreams crawled out of the Pacific ocean and devastated California. It would only be right for the dream to be completed where it started.

And hey, if your dieing. Who the hell really cares about Kaiju Blue poisoning? It takes more then a _month-and-some-odd-days_ to die from it. Not much longer mind you, but still. Hell, maybe everyone will think he was doing something important ( _like trying to cure Kaiju Blue, which he had planned on doing, you know. Before he found out he was going to die_.) and had unknowingly been infected.

Bah, Hermann would never believe that.

The idea did have merit though. He'll have to think on it.

After he heads down to his room and has a well deserved cry of course.


	2. Like A Long Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt makes a call about an Apartment.

A day later he picks up his ancient Iphone and calls about an apartment.

“Hello?” Comes the voice from Newt's receiver. It sounds like a woman, old and frail. Her tone is questioning but with the feeble shake that comes with age. It makes her sound like a dying breeze.

“Hi!” He says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, given the circumstances. “I'm calling about your apartments for rent. Is this Miss Annie?” He found the listing online for a number of studio apartments all owned by an older lady. The building has obviously fallen into disrepair if the pictures he dug up are anything to go by. It edges on the nuke sight of Trespasser and is currently straddling the dubious line of nearly condemned. It's the absolute last place anyone is going to be looking for him.

Plus, it apparently has a great view of the ocean, since the Wall of Life section in front of it was never completed.

“Oh, you poor deary...” She murmurs. “Yes, I'm Annie.” He nearly laughs. Holy shit, when was the last time any one called him ' _deary_ '?The answer that that question ladies and gentlemen, is a resounding never.

“Well, hello then Miss Annie. Can I ask a few questions about your apartments?”

“Are you sure?” Annie's voice shakes again. She's worried, he thinks a little startled. She's worried about a total stranger. No one willingly rents one of her apartments. The few reviews listed of the place had been high. Not because of the amenities though. Each reviewer had mentioned 'S _weet Miss Annie_ ' with heaps of praise. She was kind and generous. Trespasser had taken everything from her and still she worries for others before herself. People only rent her apartments because things aren’t going to get better, and most of them are looking for a safe place to curl up and quietly be forgotten by the world.

Each reviewer had a sad story. Kaiju Blue poisoning. Cancer from Nuclear fallout. Amputation due to debris from Kaiju attacks or injury on the Anti-Kaiju Wall. People who didn't have a chance to survive even if the world was saved. People who could barely work enough hours to receive the most basic of ration cards. People who were going to die, point blank. Those were the tenants that Sweet Miss Annie got. He felt a little bad he was about to heap another sob story on her.

“Yeah,” he says. Massaging his chest where her concern has made it feel too tight. “I'm unfortunately pretty sure.”

“I'm so sorry deary.” She whispers, regretful and brittle in turns. “I only have two other tenants right now so you'll have plenty of room.” Room to be alone is the underlining promise. “Rooms are fully furnished, but you should bring linens if you can. The amenities are included in rent. Though the air broke awhile back and I can't find anyone to fix it. The heat works though.”

Well thank God for small miracles. California might not be the coldest place he's been to in the winter, but the Russian Shatterdome had heating at least. He does not hold up well in the cold.

“Sounds lovely.” He tries very hard to curb the sarcasm that wants to poison his response. It's just too easy to throw out a quick barb instead of actually thinking about what she's saying. It's a coping method and he knows it. Both he and Hermann use it when they're stressed or worried. Newt should at least try to be nice to Miss Annie though, she doesn't have to let him rent an apartment. She doesn't have to sit through him being a rude little shit.

“On your add it didn't list a price.” He inquires. Twirling a pen between in fingers and staring at his desk clock. The small timer in the corner is counting down. He's still got about ten minutes until another nose-bleed hits. Which is fine, Hermann is firmly in bed at this hour. It's two in the morning and he's had a long day of yelling/gloating at his Father. The mathematician is sleeping like a log, no doubt.

It's 2 A.M in Hong Kong so it's approximately 10-ish in California. Hooray for timezone differences helping him be sneaky.

“It depends deary. Are you working for cash or rations?” She breaks his thoughts with her question.

He gives a sharp bark of laughter before he can stop himself. Miss Annie makes a strangled noise of surprise and he instantly feels guilty. “Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I just...” How do you explain that you've been working for nether since late 2024? He'd taken his payment in free room and Kaiju guts if anything. “I've never been asked that before.” He settles on lamely. “I have cash though.”

“Oh good.” she breathes. Obviously relieved. “My other tenants are working for rations and while it's nice to get a steady supply of food. The bills have been piling up lately.”

“Yeah, I can see how that’s a problem.” He agrees. “So how much are we talking?” 

“Could you do...Oh dear one second.” He can hear Miss Annie shuffle around some. The rustle of papers and her wheezy breath as she digs through something. Newt starts to doodle Otachi's tongue on a scrap of printer paper. Trying to get the strange flower like design right as he waits on an estimate.

“Is three-hundred too high?” She finally asks, obviously hesitant. He nearly shanks himself with the pen when he hears the price. Jesus, the world really had fallen to shit while he was living in the PPDC Shatterdomes hadn't it? He'd spent three-hundred dollars on his cell-bill alone, and never less then a grand on rent. Before K-Day anyways. 

“Is that weekly?” It has to be, or at least Bi-monthly.

“Heaven's no. Monthly of course.” She splutters, either mildly offended or surprised at his question. “I know it's a lot to ask, especially if you're needing medicine or have to buy your own rations. I can go lower if you need me too. three-hundred was just an optimistic number.”

“No, no! It's fine. three-hundred is fine.” he hurries to reassure. “Do you want a deposit. First month down. Anything like that?”

“Aww, you're a sweetheart aren’t you deary? Nothing but the rent, I promise.” She chuckles fondly. Like he's being overbearingly worrisome and not legitimately inquiring about the ludicrously low rent rate. He knows that this apartment isn't exactly the Ritz, or hell, even a Holiday Inn. It still feels like he's taking advantage of the poor old lady though.

“Right – Well then, how do you want to do this? Should I wire you the money or...”

“Cash, please - just cash if you can.”

He startles for a second at her plea. He's never had a Land-lord who preferred cash. They liked money to just appear in their bank accounts at the right time and would otherwise leave him be.

Then again, he hasn't rented in over a decade so there’s no telling what new social norms have sprouted up in the time. Especially in poorer areas around the pacific coast. Miss Annie could be avoiding taxes, or any number of things that would make her avoid having a paper trail.

He chuckles a little as his mind conjures up the image of a little old lady mob boss. Dinky house shoes and real Mink furs all draped on a wheezy grandma version of Hannibal Chau.

“Yeah, I can do cash. It'll be a few days before I can get it to you though.” He's probably got a few thousand in bills stored in his room. The rest of it is in his PPDC bank account. Where it's likely to remain. His stash should be more then enough to get him some food, and an apartment though. He won't have to touch much.

He chuckles again. It's suddenly a very good thing she doesn't want the money wired. Newt would be leaving a paper trail of his own if he tried to wire money anywhere.

“Of course! Should we break it up weekly then? Would that be easier on you dear? Lets see that would be...”

“75 dollars.” He answers as she trails off. “And no, I can pay up front. That's no problem. I'm just not in L.A, right now” Newt sniffles and the now familiar sensation of blood running from his nose distracts him for a second until he drags a blood stained handkerchief out from under his computer's keyboard. Tilting his head back and quickly cleaning the slight trickle before it gets a chance to ruin another of his graphic tees. “I'll 'ave it w'en I get there tho'h.” He says, slightly muffled as his handkerchief tries to end up in his mouth on top of clogging his nose.

“Are you okay deary?”She asks instantly. Surprisingly keen to the change in his voice.

“Nose-bleed. It's fine.” He doesn't bother to lie. She has to know why he's renting the apartment, even if she doesn't know who he is or what's technically wrong with him. Newt has no reason to hide something so innocuous from a woman who rents to people with Kaiju Blue. Which is way gnarlier then a nose-bleed. Kaiju Blue causes skin to pale and flake, veins turn a sickly blackish color, eyes yellow as the poison shuts down the liver. It's a gross descent that he'd had hopes of curing it since no one else seems to know what the hell to do about anything Kaiju related.

His eyes dart over to his nose-bleed countdown. Four minutes left on the timer. They are coming faster now. He's going to have to reset the countdown again. This shit can't happen when Hermann's in the room.

“If you're sure.” She says. Voice fading slightly with a wheeze.

“Yeah, I'm a champ at dealing with these things by now.” He tries to laugh it off, despite the sudden and terrible realization it's actually true. It's barely been a week since the Breach closed and already he's had to reset the clock's countdown timer four times. He's down to less then two hours between nose-bleeds.

“Well....You're free to move in at any time deary. I can have a room cleaned and made up in no time flat.” Annie promises.

“Thank you, I guess....I guess I'll see you when I get there, yeah?” He doesn't understand why his voice is shaking. He's already decided he's doing this. He's payed the world it's dues and he deserves to go peacefully. Not being prodded by Doctors less qualified then himself as they scramble for a cure that isn't coming. Not having to deal with the press and the pity party they would want to throw.

Not having to tell Hermann he's dying.

“Come when ready sweetheart. There's no rush.” She murmurs, voice soft as a well worn sweater but more brittle then glass. She's trying to be nice, and he knows that.

It's just unfortunate that last part is an understood lie.


	3. Like A Bad Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann appears, and everything starts to go down hill.

Newt can't sleep for the rest of the night. So with the help of his ancient Black&Decker coffee maker he stays up. Running a few test on some of the scavenged pieces of Otachi and Leatherback. Doing some dabbling on detoxing Kaiju blood. Mostly though? He starts packing up his side of the lab, deciding what he's too attached to let go of. He's eight kinds of sad he can't take the couch. The ugly brown monstrosity has followed Hermann and him for about six years now. Shatterdome to Shatterdome. He's got a lot of good memories of that eye-sore.

Technically though, Hermann owns it. Plus, he's packing light. A couch does not constitute as light packing.

So he's got a plastic bin with all of five items waiting to be shoved in his luggage. The past decade he's spent living out of two suitcases and a carry on bag, so he knows how to travel. He is just irrationally sad he can't take Hermann's fugly couch with him. It's a stupid thing to be upset about but he's been awake for nearing on sixteen hours and rationality has always tended to turn a little slant-ways around fourteen.

8 A.M rolls around and Hermann shows up. Pants ironed, belt tight, shirt without a wrinkle, and sweater vest still looking like a relic from the early 1800's. He looks good. Which he wishes he could blame on the lack of sleep. Unfortunately Newt has this affliction called ' _Love'_ , and it tends to make Hermann look devastatingly handsome no matter what terrible grandpa clothes he chooses to wear. It's a problem.

It's become worse since the Breach closed. The mathematician walks easier now. His frown lines are soothed slightly with the stress of the Apocalypse having passed. Hermann has smiled at him no less then six times this week. Six! That is more then their entire decade working together has produced. The previous tally was two. One when they were initially introduced, and the other when Newt had chosen to continue with the resistance and not take the offer MIT had thrown at him.

He has to use two hands to count the smiles now. It feels like a victory.

Until he glances at his nose-bleed countdown, and is starkly reminded he's going to die in approximately four-to-eight weeks. Turning the victory into a sense of crushing disappointment.

The tiny numbers of his countdown tell him he has around forty-five minutes before he needs to either distract Hermann or have a sudden bathroom break. It actually says an hour, but he's getting a little paranoid about how fast the nose-bleeds are coming on. He has made it too long, dodging medical personnel and Hermann's hawk-like gaze alike, to be foiled in the last leg by an unfortunately timed nose-bleed.

“Morning Hermann.” He chirps loudly. Instead of letting his thoughts continue on their current trail. If he focuses on it too much he'll start to act squirrelly. He is a terrible - terrible – actor, and if Hermann catches even so much as a hint of strangeness he'll latch on like a dog with a bone. Gottliebs don't believe in doing even the most asinine of things half-way. As proven by Lars who still, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, believes the Wall of Life could have handled the Kaiju.

“Good Morning.” Chocolate eyes narrow from where the taller man is making his way across the lab. His cane taps twice. A sign he's a little annoyed ( _three times is pissed_ ) before he pointedly looks at all the dissected samples, and whirling machinery. “Or, as judging from the mess, a “hello again” would be more appropriate. Do tell me you at least took a nap on the couch.”

_Hahaha._ Hermann brought up the couch. That is not funny universe. Stop that shit, he's not emotionally stable enough for this right now.

He turns away to check on some petri dishes, and because he's a terrible person, replies with “I'll sleep when I’m dead.”

Which, holy shit, isn’t that hysterical? Because he's going to be. He's going to be dead!

Really. Fucking. _Soon_.

Hermann makes a disgruntled sound. It's familiar, and soothes Newton better then any Rock 'N Roll could have. It's one of Hermann's many ' _I think that is mildly amusing, but you're a child and I refuse to laugh_ ' noises. Which means the deranged laughter bouncing around his skull did manage to remain in his head. Otherwise Hermann would have already called the medical staff to sedate him.

The day seems to be off to a good start. He unfortunately has already made one death joke. So his limit of three is going to have to be rationed over the coming hours. A pity. He does so like to pepper their conversations with macabre humor. It's a great method of coping.

( _He ignores the terrified part of himself that hopes Hermann will notice something off with the sudden increase in black humor. Before violently silencing the screaming voice that begs his Drift partner to not let him die. He is not – not – dragging Hermann down with him dammit! Not again._ )

“Whats this then?” Hermann is suddenly much closer to Newt's work station. Looking curiously into the mostly empty plastic bin that has a his few nick-nacks laying haphazardly inside.

“Packing?” He says, trying to make the single word as painfully obvious and condescending as possible. Why the hell is he asking? The mathematician knows what that is. They have both packed and unpacked enough times in each others company usually one of them has to remind the other to grab something. Whether it be Hermann's extra cane and hand-held chalk board. Or Newt's last remaining Godzilla magnets. He should know beyond a shadow of a doubt what those items being gathered together is.

“So you were listening. I'm impressed.” Hermann snorts. Which hey, what?

“Listening to what?” He asks a little strangled. Shit was there some mass message around the Shatterdome, a 'G _et your shit and get out_ '? Or better yet. ' _Get your shit, you're being moved to another Shatterdome'._

Christ, where was his phone? He's going to have to call Miss Annie back isn't he? His whole plan is about to go up in smoke. Mother Fu-

Hermann's eyebrows furrow, and his frown is back with a vengeance. Which, hello there old friend, Newt's missed that pursed-lip look, he's nearly forgotten what it looked like with all the smiles he'd been getting lately.

“My family has requested I come home.” He states slowly. Like he's talking to a four year old and not a fellow adult who happens to have six doctorates.

Newt snorts. “Well yeah, of course I heard that. Dude - they've been bugging you about it since you were sober enough to answer the phone.”

Hermann's face turns a faint blotchy pink. As he usually does when reminded of his ' _holy-shit-we-saved-the-world_ ' drinking binge. It had been awesome. Drunk Hermann is just as sarcastic and bitchy as sober Hermann, but he laughs a lot more at Newt's bad jokes and snipes at other people more often instead of laser focusing on Newton's faults. Drunk Hermann was cool, and willing to hug. The hugs were probably what made the whole thing actually.

“Yes, well...” The taller man coughs slightly. “I assume you are packing so we may go.”

“Wha-what?” He splutters, nearly knocking his samples of Kaiju Blue and various petri's to the concrete floor as he spins to look at Hermann properly. “ _We?_ ”The word comes out as barely more then a strangled wheeze.

Newton can see that Hermann is biting the inside of his cheek. ( _Nervous, he's nervous. Why is he nervous?_ ) and his eyes have darted back to the bin without comprehension. He looks at the assembled items and then back to Newt, before narrowing his eyes. Shit. Now he's angry.

“Of course _we!_ I figured it was understood I would not be dealing with my relatives alone, Newton.” Hermann snaps. Glaring so hard it's surprising Newt doesn't catch on fire, or something equally painful.

“I didn't know man! Jesus Christ, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were subtly trying to tell me to pack up so we can go harass your family.” He throws his hands up in surrender, and contemplates how absolutely fucked he is, Hermann has obviously already planned for him to attend the Gottlieb family reunion. ( _Likely to harass Lars and his brothers._ ) and as previously stated. Hermann Gottlieb is not a man to be dissuaded once he has decided on something. Not to mention, he used the royal ' _we_ '. The one he pulls out when he's telling officials and bigwigs alike that they come as package deal.

Which always sets his heart a flutter, if he's perfectly honest. It was rare that some military-type would try and split them, but after the first few ' _Gottlieb fits_ ' fewer still had tried it again. Hermann had explained ( _read; yelled_ ) many times that despite how much Newton annoyed him it was still paramount they work together as their ratio of success was a startling 35% better. Hermann was a man of numbers, and he was willing to fight to keep them high. Or in this case, deal with an annoying Kaiju groupie for a decade.

“How could you not know?” Hermann hisses. Rapping his cane against the concrete three times in quick succession. Shit, now he's pissed. “In fact. If you did not know.” Hermann takes in a deep gulp of air, and his cute blotchy pink blush has become an infuriated red color across his cheeks. “ _Then_ w _hy are you packing?!_ ” The last bit is spat with enough venom to kill a lesser man. Or in the case of one Newton Geiszler, send him into DEF-CON 1 levels of panic. Newt has maybe ten seconds, _maximum,_ to either explain his ass or girdle his loins, as there is about to be a screaming match fit for the ages.

Newt flounders. What does he do? Jesus Fucking Christ, what does he say? Hermann looks fit to bite his head off if he doesn't give a very good answer immediately. Which it's not like he can say ' _Oh sorry I wasn't paying attention to your prodding, I was too busy planning where I’m going to hole up and die._ ' so the truth isn't even a viable option like it usually is. Then again considering the truth is usually some version of ' _I wasn't paying attention, because of Kaiju -insert theory/test/movie here-'_ it's not surprising.

Plus, when the hell did Hermann decide they are going to travel together? Their job is over, works done, ships are sailing home folks. The mathematician doesn't need to be with him anymore, and while he can understand the taller man not wanting to face his relative alone. It's still a pretty dickish move too just assume Newt would be okay with that. Not like he doesn't have is own family that he hasn't seen in years.

Oh, wait – shit, that could work.

But, God dammit, that would be _lying!_ They don't lie to each other. That's why their relationship ( _hahaha if only_ ) has lasted this long. Neither of them lies to the other. It just isn't done. Oh sure, there have been some 'lies of omission' but it's usually personal things that have a tendency too be explained later. Straight bold-faced lies. That’s just – that is unheard of. Makes his stomach drop uncomfortably to even contemplate.

His eyes dart to the desk beside his hip so he doesn't have to deal with furious chocolate eyes boring holes into him, helplessly looking at the nose-bleed clock like it would give him an answer.

The bright red numbers are lazily ticking down. 35 minutes left. _Haha..._ fuck that number! 35 minutes and 35% and only 35 years old. Fate has a sick sense of humor, and a hell of a way of reminding him he's going to die. It sure as hell doesn't use the kiddy gloves when punching him in the gut does it?

Looks like he's got his answer. There is apparently a first for everything. Including lying to your best friend/ mortal enemy/scientific soul-mate.

Hermann's classification is a little difficult.

“Dude I'm - I'm going to see my Dad and Uncle, you know. My family?” He can barely stand to look into Hermann's eyes when he says it. The words cause something dark and heavy to crawl through his limbs, he feels like if he looks at his arms they'll have the black veins of Kaiju Blue poisoning starting to spider upwards. Making him look as sick as he actually is. He wants to shake, maybe break down and scream _'no no, I'm sorry. I'm lying. Don't listen to me'._ But that is the same part of himself that hopes Hermann will notice he's dying. The part he shuts down every time it makes an appearance and shoves quickly back into a little box.

Of course he's going to lie. What the hell does he think he's doing now? He's running away to California so he can die and never have to face telling Hermann. Not bringing it up is as good as lying. Can he please get over himself?

Hermann's rant seems to have stopped cold as his mouth clicks closed where it had been poised to start yelling. His brows recede to a normal level on his forehead, and he looks more confused then irate. Hallelujah! Call the Pope, because it's a miracle! Newt, for once in his life, has said the perfect thing too throw Hermann so far off his rage-on that the whole screaming match may just not happen. Today should be a declared a national holiday.

“I...Ah.” Hermann is legitimately speechless for a second. “I apologize then.” The mathematician says, blinking slowly “I had...Been under the impression we would be traveling together. Forgive me, I should have remembered your family. It's just...you had expressed interest in meeting my relations previously” Newt watches as Hermann nervously fiddles with his cane. Or as much 'nervous fiddling' as Hermann Gottlieb does. It basically just amounts to drumming his fingers a few times on the brass head “I thought we would – I mean we could still – make a quick trip to see my family, before going to see yours. If you would be amenable”

Oh god, Hermann's practically squirming. Jesus, it's too cute. Make the handsome bastard stop.

Also, who gave Hermann permission to make rational travel plans for the both of them that he would love too agree to?

Because Newt does remember stating _(years ago when the Wall of Life was just starting to pull the rug out from under the PPDC)_ that he would love to meet Lars and the family. Really get to know the egotistical German Doctor that thought walls had even a chance of stopping the Kaiju for more then a few hours tops.

Hermann, as he remembers fondly, had snorted and promised that should the opportunity arise he was free to join the next family reunion. It would serve his Father right to deal with Newton's 'scruffy and overbearing personality'.

“I remember saying I wanted to go. Yeah Hermann. But man, I...I can't. I gotta go back to the states.” This isn't fair, not at all. He wants to go. Wants to stay with Hermann. But he can't.

He can't risk going with the taller man, even if it's only for a few days. One unnoticed nose-bleed will end everything. Hell, that’s not even counting any other symptoms that could pop up. With his luck he would be on the Gottlieb's doorstep and finally have that Waking Drift episode he's worried about.

Hermann huffs. “Well then, we shall just have to cancel with my family.” He doesn't look even remotely upset about it either. Newt has a feeling Hermann has been looking for a decent enough excuse to avoid another ten-years of interaction with his Father and brothers, Newton has just gift wrapping him one. 

“Dude. No dice. You have to go see your family. At least your Mom and Karla. I know your Dad's a piece of work, and God damn if Dieterich and Bastien don't deserve a good punch in the mouth either. But your Mom's a nice lady, and she deserves to see you for a few days if nothing else.”

He barely realizes the words are coming out of his mouth. Mostly because he isn't trying to convince Hermann to go so he can get away. He's trying to convince Hermann because he really does need to go see his Mom and sister. Those two are sort of the 'normal' ones is the Gottlieb family, and there isn't a shadow of doubt they miss their wayward theoretical mathematician .

Mama Gottlieb is the kind of woman who calls every Sunday, sends Hermann care packages with German sweets and terrible sweaters, and then mails presents and cards for every holiday even if they aren't ones you would normally receive such things on. Hermann loves his Mom, and is fairly fond of his little sister ( _who's the other black-sheep of the family. She has a doctorate in linguistics. It apparently drives Lars insane._ ) It's not fair for them to be avoided just because the other three deserve to be bitch slapped into the next parallel dimension. 

Hermann practically deflates. “You...” He starts before shaking his head once. Like he's trying to shrug off some thought. “You wish to part ways? Now?” His voice goes strangely shaky. Newtons never heard it do that before. Shaky is new, he doesn't like new.

“Dude, I don't _wish_ to part anything. Believe me, if I had it my way we would be out touring and swimming in adoration right now.” Would they ever, Jesus, he bets they could be half way through with a European circuit by now. Guest lectures and News interviews as far as the eye can see. “I have to go though.” Newt stresses, trying not too sound as desperate or heart-broken as he feels. “And you need to visit your family.”

The thread in his mind that he knows is _Hermann_ is suddenly there and bright. It's literally all he can do to not reach out and latch onto it like a scared child with a blanket. It feels warm, inquisitive, and a lot like home. Hermann's mind is a maze of numbers, theories, and the elation of discovery. It tastes like chalk-dust and tea in his mouth, he can practically hear the squeak of chalk and rhythmic clicking of a cane loud in his ears. It's the many things that make Hermann - Hermann. All wrapped up in the pale blue light of the drift and waiting to be allowed in.

He doesn't let it.

Hermann takes in a deep breath, and nods sharply. “Fine.” He grits out, obviously pained to agree with Newton. “I will go. Only for Mother and Karla though.” He raps his cane once on the ground. Loud and startling. An obvious ' _Pay attention!'_. Newt's going to miss Hermann's cane. It makes navigating conversations so much easier when he can read what the man wants/feels just by listening to a hunk of wood pound the floor.

“Afterward we will meet up again and start our touring circuit.” Newt doesn't even get a moment to protest. Hermann has decided, and it is now law. Write it in stone and send it down the mountain, cause it would take an act of God for him to change his mind at this point.“How long are you planning to spend with your Father and Uncle?”

“At the most?” he nervously laughs, trying not to grimace in the face of Hermann's conviction for them to remain together. “Two months...”

“What?” Hermann is noticeably startled at the time allotment. “You have never visited so long before, is something wrong?”

Oh yeah Hermann, something is definitely wrong.

Well in for a penny, in for a pound ( _or however that weird-ass saying goes_ ). He's already lied once and got away with it. Might as well keep with the trend.

“I don't know, Uncle Illia seems to be unwell.” Forgive him Uncle, for he is about to completely ruin your good and healthy name. “The Doctors aren't worried, but I'm going to stick around until I'm sure he's fine.”

“You could have just told me Newton. For God's sake, we could have avoided this whole altercation if you had bothered to mention your Uncle's declining health.” Hermann growls, frustration etched into every line of his face. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, soothing the irritation until he 'resets' back to what Newton fondly refers to as Hermann-Neutral.

“When you are sure he's healthy then we will reconvene for our lecture tour. Is this acceptable?”

Newt nearly breaks down into hysterics again. Holy shit, he knows he only has two more joke allotted for the day, but he has to do it. He's a fucking terrible person.

“Yeah Hermann,” He chuckles, turning back to his work so the mathematician won't see his heart-broken smile and glazing eyes. “Can't wait. I'm practically- _dying-_ of anticipation.”


	4. Like Tempting Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newton has a plane to catch. Hermann finds a clue.

Newt is not panicking, okay? He isn't. He's just running a little late and he can't find his damned phone.

Which is absolutely no good right now. He has to be at the Hong Kong International Airport in less then an hour for check in and he's running around the Shatterdome as quiet as he can, trying too find an ancient Iphone that he stupidly left on silent. He's torn his room apart, and his half of the lab is in shambles from his mad spree. He literally does not know where he could have left it.

The alarm on his watch ( _yes, he actually had to dig out his old digital watch, that's how long he's been looking for the phone_.) goes off. Beeping shrilly and flashing 6:30 AM in big block numbers, the backlight switching in between a painful lime green color and an even more offending shade of blue. This is why no one uses a watch anymore. It's physically sickening to stare at them for too long.

He curses and fights to turn off the alarm. He's out of time. Phone or no phone, he has got to leave right now if he wants to remain on schedule.

If he misses this flight he won't have another one for three days. Hong Kong is still eight-kinds of fucked up from Otachi and Leatherback's attack, and while neither of the Kaiju had actually gotten to the airport, the destruction and contamination in the city has definitely put a slow on flights willing to land here. Not to mention, he isn't sure how perfectly timed the next flight would be.

His flight will be boarding at 7:55 AM, meaning he is up and out of the Shatterdome before Hermann has even woken up. The mathematician is never ready to wake before 7, and very rarely out of his room before 8. Which means he doesn't need to have any teary good byes, or hell, even say good bye at all. Newt is just going to quietly slip away into the early morning light and be gone.

So with a mildly heavy heart he has to leave the phone. He's not too worried about it though. The thing is ancient, and password protected. If anyone actually bothers to try and use it more power to 'em. Good luck figuring out how to use the seven key. The alignment is so painfully bad you actually have to hit the bottom left side of the pound key. Yeah, have fun with that.

With one last wild look around the lab he gives up the phone for lost. He quickly re-shoulders his backpack, pops out the handles for his two rolling suitcases, and proceeds to sprint down the mostly empty concrete halls of the Shatterdome. The tiny wheels of his luggage clack loudly in the silence as he flees the Science wing and makes for the exit.

Whatever, it's not like he needs a phone anyways. He can always pick up one of those pay-as-you-go hunks of plastic when he lands in the States. It's not that big a deal.

It's just a stupid phone. Whats the worst that can happen? Someone trade it for an extra ration of coffee? Whoopee, who cares.

He tightens his grip and hustles a little faster. He has a plane to catch.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, Hermann has just finished breakfast ( _once again, without Newton appearing_ ) and is currently making his way towards the lab unhurriedly. Fully expecting to see the biologist bent over some piece of viscera. Eyes manic and dead tired. Newt will probably perk up long enough to give him a greeting before crashing on the couch or going back to his room to sleep. As is his custom of late. 

He doesn't get anything like what he expected when he walks into their shared space though.

When he enters he's absolutely horrified by the tornado that seems too have hit Newton's side of the lab. Papers are scattered on the floor. Jars of questionable liquid are balanced precariously on the edges of his desks, and all of the Kaiju pieces are missing.

Or as he notes with a second look. All of the Kaiju pieces have been shoved into the hazardous waste bin. Very strange.

He makes his way over. Mindful of his step. Setting the more dangerous objects right so they won't roll off and break on the floor as he goes. The crumpled papers prove tricky, what with his injured leg, so he's forced to leave most of them where they've fallen. Despite how much it truly bothers him to do so.

God above. Did Newton do this? He's never seen such wanton destruction and careless disregard for scientific equipment in all his days. Especially not from the biologist. Who, despite being disgustingly messy when experimenting, does take excellent care of the few materials they still have otherwise.

Hermann is setting Newton's monitor right ( _which really, who would bother knocking over a computer monitor?_ ) when something peaking out from beneath the keyboard catches his attention.

It's a handkerchief. Or at least a scrap of fabric that was being used as one. Completely covered in copper brown and fading red splotches.

Blood, he faintly realizes, with something akin to worry starting to slip through his veins as he inspects the object. The small cloth is caked in blood, both old and startlingly new. Most assuredly human blood too, since Kaiju blood makes very distinct patterns of metallic blue and black when it dries.

He is momentarily distracted from the gore soaked fabric by the flashing of Newton's cellphone. It apparently has been hidden underneath the keyboard as well, the screen blinking a warning it is about to die if not plugged in soon.

He lays the handkerchief down and plucks the cellphone from the desk. Sliding over the unlock button to pull up the password-screen. Let's see now -

Hermann presses hard on the 1-button until it registers, then hits the edge of the pound sign twice. Waiting to make sure two dots appear in the password-box before he hits the 3-key, one of the few buttons that still works right. He's very pleased with himself when the screen accepts the password without problem. Newton usually has to do it twice, since he invariably will mix his 7's and the pound sign when trying.

Maybe it could be considered rude he has picked up Newton's password, but it wasn't like the biologist had ever been really sneaky about it. In fact, Hermann had lost count of the times Newt will pull out his phone and struggle with the password while standing right beside him. So it wasn't technically his fault he'd picked it up. He was just very good at memorizing numbers, and he'd listened to Newton screaming about his 7 key for years.

This was just the first time he has ever bothered to apply the knowledge.

After struggling with the dying electronic for a second, the mathematician manages to locate the off button. There is no point in letting the thing die obviously. Even if putting the Iphone to sleep will only conserve what little battery is left. It's still better then leaving it there.

That's what he tells himself anyway. He really just wanted to test if he could successfully unlock Newton's puzzle phone. Which he had. So there. No harm done.

Looking around the lab, he is starkly reminded of the disaster zone around him.

Pocketing the phone, and handkerchief _(because do not think for one second he will not be confronting his lab partner about why he's hiding a blood soaked rag_ ) he starts to make his way towards Newton room.

The biologist has a lot of explaining to do.


	5. Like A Flight Of Fancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newton starts to notice how hard leaving Hermann is going to be.

At the same time, while Hermann is trying to find him. Newton has _finally_ boarded his flight.

This is, of course, after sitting around for an extra hour due to a scheduling delay. Having to deal with a nose-bleed without his handkerchief and being forced to make due with napkins from the McDonald's down in Terminal One, after convincing two very concerned fast-food workers in broken Chinese that ' _yes, he's fine_ '. Then having to explain it again to the ticket taker when he returned to the gate with paper shoved up his nose.

Otherwise though, everything has been pretty smooth. He's done a lot of flying in his life, and he can safely say this is one of the better waits. No one has stripped down and had a fist fight with a security guard in their underwear. So this doesn't hold a candle to the time he was being stationed at Vladivostok and had to stop in Domodedovo International Airport.

Unfortunately, he's flying Air Canada, which is not too say there is anything wrong the the airline. It's just that he's also flying Economy class, and the flight has to make a stop in Vancouver for a layover. So he's going to be cramped in the tiny bucket seat for well over 14 hours. That is if there is no extra delays of course. He's been stuck sitting on run-ways for well over three hours before. There is the distinct possibility this trip could take closer to 18 or 19 hours.

The upsides of the flight come two fold, as not only did he manage to snag an aisle seat _(so he can stretch his legs some, if sitting gets to be to much_ ) he also managed to score one of the jets with Wireless capabilities. Which is way better then watching whatever stock movies they have to choose from on the tiny touch screens.

Once, when he was flying with Hermann, there was only one movie on his screen that worked. So for eight hours he watched, on repeat, Disney's ' _Nightmare Before Christmas_ '. To this day he can still quote the entire movie, word for word. Not too mention the simple act of humming ' _This is Halloween_ ' is enough to make Hermann throw something at him. 

Or...was enough, if you want to be technical.

There he goes, making himself sad again. This has to be at least the eighth time in the last three hours he's done that. It's getting old, fast.

He's just never realized how much Hermann has become intertwined in his life. When he'd ordered a coffee at the Starbucks ( _Yes, even China has them. There were two of them in HKIA alone_ ) he'd also ordered Hermann's usual, a Chai Tea Latte with whole milk, without thinking about it. He'd walked out with both drinks before even realizing that Hermann wasn't there. Nor would he ever be again.

He might have thrown out his own coffee after that depressing realization and drank Hermann's drink. Whatever, who cares. He likes a good Chai Tea Latte from time to time.

Which is a bold-faced lie. Newt hates them. A lot. He still drank the whole thing though.

He has a vague memory from Hermann, of sitting together outside their gate in an airport ( _during one of many flights they had taken_ ), drinking the overpriced tea and staring at Newton, who is animatedly telling him about the most recent Kaiju attack. ( _Atticon; taken down by Cherno Alpha._ ) The memory is washed in a blue haze of amusement, annoyance, and a little fondness. Newton latches onto the remnant from the Drift and chokes down the drink. Tying the strange taste of sweet tea and spice into Hermann's enjoyment.

A little later after the tea incident, he catches himself avoiding the left side of people he's trying to steer his luggage around. Subconsciously staying away from the side where Hermann would be using his cane.

Then, when he makes it to his gate initially, he sits across from an empty bench seat. Trapping himself in the confines of one of the smaller, single chairs, with cold metal arms. After a few minutes he realizes he is waiting on Hermann to settle into the wider space and stretch out his bad leg. The mathematician would no doubt be in some pain. It's always harder on him when people don't move out of the way and he has to fight through crowds.

It's every little thing. Looking for Hermann. Panicking when he doesn't spot a green parka, or tweed blazer. Waiting for Herman to get ahead of him in line. Before growing irrationally angry at the tiny Chinese woman in floral print standing in front of him. Constantly waiting and watching for his Drift partner, only to be starkly reminded every time that Hermann. Isn't. There. Nor will he be.

Ever again.

Newt collapses into his seat and buckles up. There is an older couple beside him, both of them are prattling back and forth too quickly for his limited understanding to keep up with. They seem to be in good cheer though.

He leans back and waits for the door to finally close, eyes drifting along the various passengers and the two stewards making their way around.

The closest steward is a young man with tired almond eyes and spiky black hair. His partner is a pale woman with brunette hair and a pinched, insincere smile. They both look dead on their feet and it's probably only by sheer willpower and caffeine they're up and helping settle people.

He watches the two work in tandem, going up and down the aisles. Seamlessly passing back and forth people's luggage, settling those who claim their seat is different/taken. Dodging exuberant children and embarrassed parents alike. It's like poetry almost. Back and forth in perfect time.

'They would be Drift compatible.' Newt thinks, just a little hysterically. 

A little bit later, after everyone has been settled and the door sealed closed. Both Stewards make their way up to the front of Economy class, each one taking a microphone and doing a few tests to make sure everyone can hear them.

The black-haired man introduces himself as Yao, and the brunette woman is Jean. Yao tells them all the safety procedures that Newton has heard a hundred time before. Only Yao does it in both Mandarin and Cantonese, then Jean tells them all the same thing in English and French.

Newt amuses himself until take off by trying to figure out what the pair's Jaeger would be named. Sleepless Steward is his current favorite, closely followed by Maple Havoc. He even ends up doodling a little on the back of his Starbucks receipt. Trying six or so different variations for the head-pod, and a dozen different logos. It's fun enough until the plane starts to taxi.

He looks out the window, once the older lady in the inside seat slides it open, and watches the asphalt quickly start to blur together as they gather speed. The engine roars louder and louder as the plane approaches the end of the run way. Making the entire cabin bounce suddenly, which causes no less then four people ( _mostly children_ ) to shriek in fear.

Then, the sudden feeling of his' stomach dropping firmly takes hold as the plane starts to ascend.

Newton leans back and closes his eyes. Not wanting to see Hong Kong disappear into the distance. Not wanting to look out across the bay and see the Shatterdome. Not wanting to really acknowledge what he's doing, or whats going to happen.

He slows his breathing, and thinks about Drift compatibility and Jaegers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone worries. Yao and Jean are not going to be reoccurring characters. Just Minor inserts meant to make Newt sad :D


	6. Like Being Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann becomes more suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks for all the reviews~ I'm so happy so many people are giving this a shot. Especially since the words 'Major Character Death' usually means no one will touch it with a ten foot pole.

“Newton left?” Hermann splutters.

After having left the lab, Hermann had gone to Newton's room, but the biologist hadn't answered the door. Which was strange, because even dead asleep Newton would normally wake up long enough to crawl out of bed and answer the door if you pounded long enough. Hermann had decided that the biologist wasn't in after nearly ten minutes of knocking. 

He had moved on to checking every other space Newton could possibly be. The Commissary, Showers, Kwoon, the gym. Finally he had come to LOCCENT. At his wits end. To ask Tendo to make an announcement for Newton to come out from where ever he was hiding. 

Only for Mr. Choi to inform him that at approximately 6:30 AM, Newton had rendezvoused with a prearranged helicopter flight to the main land. Where he had been picked up by a cab that was shuttling the scientist to Hong Kong International Airport. 

“You didn't know?” Tendo worries the edge of his bow-tie, seeing the beginning of something either like fury or heart-break on Dr. Gottlieb's face. “He cleared it with command just yesterday. Even got Debra to agree to be his chauffeur.” Tendo winces. “Which I guess should have raised a red flag now that I think about it.”

Pilot Debra Vess is known for keeping to herself, she is also known for never agreeing to do civilian transport. Her helicopter is for Jaeger drops only, as she is well known for saying.

So yes, the fact that Newton had gone through the trouble of getting the most tight-lipped, least likely to gossip individual in the Shatterdome to be his ride does raise an alarm.

“But...but...” Hermann can't help that his voice shakes. Newton left. Without so much as the most simple of goodbyes. Newton left him, and he doesn't know whether he should scream or cry about the act. He doesn't know how to handle feelings like this. Emotional displays have always been Newton's territory. The biologist is the one who is supposed to act out for the both of them. With wild, excessive bouts of overreaction. “Why would he bother to hide it? I knew he was going home. There was no need to run off.” Hermann says quietly, staring at the floor. 

Tendo narrows his eyes, and swings around. Turning back towards his computers and pulling up the financial report of the current Shatterdome staff. typing furiously as he plows through page after page of information. 

“Okay,” The J-Tech officer says. After finally finding Newton's page amongst the masses. “So apparently Newt bought an economy plane ticket on Air Canada about three days ago with his debit card.” What Tendo is doing may just be a teensy bit illegal, but all funds that come out from the PPDC bank are monitored. He is just, taking advantage of that fact to find out what the hell the other scientist who saved the world is up to.

“Canada?” Hermann says, surprised more then anything. What in Heaven's name would Newton need to do in Canada?

“Give me a minute, the report just has the ticket listened. I don't actually have where he was going yet. Only what he bought” Tendo mutters, Switching to a different screen and trying to match the ticket to a flight.

“He is going back to Boston, or at least that's where he told me.” Hermann interjects. Tapping his cane twice as he watches the black-haired man work. Fingers drumming quietly on the head of his cane as he watches Tendo type and compare a dozen different flights for a match.

“Got it!” Tendo says, feeling very proud of himself for finding it so quickly. “Alright, here we go. Air Canada International Flight. HKIA to YVR. Where the hell is YVR?” a quick Google search informs the pair that YVR is apparently Vancouver. “He has a layover there before he'll get on another plane. Unfortunately. I don't know anything about that flight since it's not included in the first bundle, and he apparently payed cash or used a different card for it, 'cause I can't find a code of the other half of his ticket. It doesn't seem like he'll be staying in Canada long though. He could very well be on his way to Boston like you said.”

Tendo closes the financial report and hopes no one will notice he was digging through Dr. Geiszler's purchases.

“All I can say is when he lands you should give him a call. Yell at him about taking off and not saying bye to any of us. That ain't cool brother, not at all.” Tendo complains, spinning back around to face the mathematician. Newt was a pretty cool dude, they had traded CD's and Vinyls back and forth pretty regularly when based together. The biologist had excellent taste in music. Apparently he also had really sucky taste in how to say good-bye.

“I would, Mr. Choi. Except...” Hermann draws Newton's phone out from his pants pocket. Showing the J-tech Officer the black screened Iphone with somber eyes. Tendo's own eyes widen, the surprise nearly tangible around him.

“Holy God, he left the relic behind?” Newton is practically infamous for his phone. He's refused to get an upgrade, even when the keys started to go to hell and it became more of a chore to use then anything else. Hermann isn't sure what sort of sentimental attachment Newton has to the phone, but it must have been quite strong to keep it for so long despite it getting progressively more broken. 

The sheer fact that Newton left it behind is more than a little startling. 

“Man I dunno then, I could call his family if you like? Maybe they could tell us what's up?”

Hermann entertains the notion for a second. Rubbing the brass top of his cane as he thinks.

Newton has left, suddenly and without warning. Leaving behind his precious phone, and a very suspicious handkerchief covered in blood. 

It all sound too much like some dime-store crime novel. 

“No.” He says at last. “Not yet anyways. While it seems slightly suspicious, I very much doubt Newton is up to anything underhanded. He very likely lost his phone in the lab, and simply forgot to mention his departure.” Hermann takes a deep breath. He needs to think rationally. Jumping to terrible conclusions will not do him any good. “I will email him later, I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding.” 

Tendo hesitantly nods, “Yeah man, Newt ain't the type to just run off. I bet you're right, this is probably just a huge misunderstanding.”

Hermann inclines his head towards the J-tech Officer, before making his way out of LOCCENT and back towards the ruined lab. His face darkening slightly as he walks, and his cane hitting the ground with more force then truly necessary with every step.

This had better be a misunderstanding, or so help him God. 

If Newton has taken off with no intent of coming back, or of not remaining in contact with Hermann at all. If he did the unforgivable and lied, to his face, about meeting back up for their tour. Newton will regret it. Newton had better not have lied.

His heart seizes at the thought. Painful and tight. Newton and he have never lied to one another, a fact he had found in the Drift, a fact he now clings to with iron-clad fingers. Hermann has never been bothered someone might have lied to him, it has certainly never caused him such distress before. He knows the only thing that never lies is numbers. Math is truth, unable to be anything but painful sincerity. Words and family and love? These things that so many cling to, these things are the easiest lies, the first ones he was ever subjected to. Oh but math. Math has never, ever lied to him. Math is constant. 

Then suddenly, there is one more constant. As it turns out that Newton has never lied either. 

Newton, who willingly remained with him for ten years. The man never fought to get his own lab even when Officers had tried to split them and it had only been Hermann's stubbornness that kept them together. Newton could have said one word against it and been free of the mathematician. The biologist never did though, Newton always stayed. Always came back after a fight. Never bent to Hermann's barbs, and most importantly.

Newton never lied.

It made him a constant. Like math. It meant Hermann could be close to him, could trust him. 

The mathematician was going to have to do just that, it seems. His own flight left early tomorrow. A grueling 14 hours with 2 separate lay overs before he even made it to Berlin. Where he will then have to wait over night to catch his last flight to the closest airport to his home. Which is in Innsbruck, Austria. Still 55km from Garmisch-Partenkirchen proper. 

It will be weird to travel without Newton at his side. Certainly more difficult without someone to plow him a path through the crowds. Or to grab him a disgustingly overpriced tea while he rests his leg. Or even to remind him to eat at all. He has over two days of constant traveling coming up and he has the unfortunate habit of forgetting to eat unless told to. Whether by the Shatterdome's alarm, or Newton's prodding.

He grimaces slightly. The more he thinks about it, the more obvious how very tightly wound they have become over the years. This marks the first time in 6, maybe even 7, years he's traveled alone. 

The realization does nothing to cool his anger over Newton leaving. If anything it just give him more fuel. Another facet to dig into and point out in the email he is mentally composing as he stalks back to the lab.

He'll have to write it fast. There is packing that still needs to be finished, both in his room and lab space. So if he want to fully harness his outrage (and worry, the handkerchief and phone make him uneasy if nothing else.) he'll need to pump it out in the next hour. It doesn't leave a lot of time for revision. So he'll be forced to stick to key points. Another point of irritation.

This day has shaped up to be nothing but one great annoyance (and heartbreak, a small voice whispers in the back of his head.) and it doesn't seem as if it will be getting much better.

He has a strange feeling it won't be getting 'better' for a long while to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews fuel the flame, loves. Keep 'em up and updates comes!


	7. Like A Constant Reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt gets another nose bleed and embarrasses an old Chinese lady.

Newton is awoken from his nap by the thin lipped stewardess, Jean if he remembers correctly, shaking his shoulder slightly frantically and repeating “Sir! Sir!” loudly in his ear.

“Yeah? I'm aw'ke. W'atz up?” He slurs, staring at her slightly ashen face with sleepy confusion. Huh, what do you know, this close up she has the same dark chocolate eye color as Hermann. Obviously she possesses a fully dominant genome for brown eyes. She even has his wide-eyed flustered look down pat. It's almost comforting to be stared at like a freak for once.

“Sir, you're bleeding!” Jean's voice is very nearly a squeak. A very Canadian squeak. Not condescending and British at all. How disappointing.

Newton instantly puts a hand under his nose, and can't even be bothered to fake surprise when he feels wetness.

“Yeah, it's just.....” He trails off, eyes darting to the old Chinese couple beside him. They are staring at him with trepidation. Both leaning away from him like he'll bleed on them if they get too close. Which, _rude_ , he wouldn't do it on purpose. “Just pressure difference.” He says at last, having to dredge up a decent reason from the far recesses of him mind. Pressure change can cause nosebleeds right? He's pretty sure he learned that at some point at MIT. It sounds like something he was taught anyway.

Jean nods slightly. Strangely hesitant to accept the answer. “Can I get you anything then?” She asks.

“Tissues, I guess.” Newt shrugs and leans his head back to the position it was in while he was sleeping. Hoping to keep the blood from ruining his shirt further. It's a good thing he wore a comfortable black long-sleeve and hoodie today instead of his usual white button downs. Blood is a bitch to get out of white when it sets. At least it won't be so noticeable on the black fabric.

“Right.” she says, slightly strangled. Bolting to the back of the cabin.

Weird. Maybe she's got hemophobia? Jean's wigging out way to much for a simple bloody nose. She moves like a lady with a lot of flight experience. Surely she's seen people vomit, become hysterical, and have panic attacks plenty of times. Hell, Newton's seen it plenty of times himself, such things don't even phase him any more. Something so innocuous as bleeding out of his left nostril shouldn't even worry her.

The tiny Chinese lady mutters something under her breath. He thinks she says something about screaming. Or shrieking. She defiantly said jiān jiào. Although he didn't catch the rest of the sentence.

He winces slightly, and looks around as much as he can with his head tilted back. Most of the cabin is looking at him. Each one mildly freaking out or shooting him disapproving looks. Well shit.

He doesn't remember having a nightmare. Hell, he doesn't remember falling asleep! He just closed his eyes as they were taxing and conked out apparently. His throat doesn't hurt like he'd been screaming either.

Newt is suddenly a little worried. Has he been doing this the whole time? God, he hopes not. He had room mates on either side of him back at the Shatterdome, and despite what the steel and concrete walls would have you think, sound still traveled pretty good through the halls. Surely the screaming while asleep is a relatively new addition to his condition.

Jean hurries back with a fist full of napkins clenched in her spidery fingers. Yao is standing at the back of the cabin, eyes trained on his partner. Silently shadowing her.

Well, double shit. Do they think he's crazy and going to attack someone now? Yao eyes practically scream ' _I'll cut a bitch_ ' and Jean looks like she would rather throw the napkins at him then get close enough to hand them over.

“I'm sorry.” He apologizes when she finally gets close enough. He nods slightly in the Chinese lady's direction without moving his head to much. “She mentioned yelling. Was it me?”

In the corner of his eye he sees the tiny old woman freeze up at being mentioned. Ha! She knows English. Suck it! That's what you get for talking about people when you don't think they'll understand you.

Jean nods slightly. “You were being - quite loud.” She winces. He can't tell if she's remembering his wailing, or cringing for being rude by mentioning it. Rudeness can physically harm Canadian's, he's pretty sure. It's a fact. Written down somewhere or other.

“Sorry.” He says again. Taking the napkins out of her thin fingers. Trying not to think how the boney digits remind him of Hermann. Everything reminds him of Hermann. Can his mind just please move on for like, ten minutes?

Everyone is staring at him and he feels compelled to explain about a nightmare he didn't have, or at least, doesn't remember. He expertly twists a couple of the napkins into usable size and shoves them up his nose. He regrets leaving the handkerchief behind again, it was way softer then these tree rejects he's having to use. Despite the discomfort, Newt takes a deep breath and shoots Jean his least insane smile. Hopefully least insane, Hermann has mentioned a few times he looks manic no matter what form his face takes.

God dammit brain, really? That wasn't even 30 seconds Hermann-free.

“I was...in the bunker Otachi broke into.” He says at last. Surely that’s a good enough reason to shriek like a newborn child in his sleep? People have to get therapy for Kaiju trauma all the time. Can't be that big of stretch for someone to have nightmares about one being in your face.

Jean's eyes go to about the size of a saucers, and there is a small smattering of murmurs that break out around him.

Newton looks over at Yao. The Asian male has relaxed slightly, his shoulder dropping to a normal level and the glare disappears back to dead-tired staring. He leans over and whispers something to one of the other passengers. Probably translating what Newt just said for them.

Everyone calms down as the passengers whisper what he said around the cabin in the most obvious gossip circle he's ever seen. Apparently getting nearly eaten by a Kaiju is a very good reason to scream in public spaces. He'll need to keep that in mind. He might have to use it again.

Jean leaves him to wander back over to Yao. He can see the slightly taller man touch her arm gently and leads her back behind the curtain. Both Stewards disappearing from sight completely.

Newt doesn't think about what they are doing. It could be anything. Hugging, kissing, crying, sleeping. That's the beauty of Drift compatibility, it's confusing to every one but you. Newt could guess Hermann's moods perfectly, with nothing more then a cane tap and a miniscule difference in the mathematician’s frown. It's what made it so easy to harass him.

Then again, Hermann had been able to do the same in reverse. Which meant the harassment went both way.

Holy shit brain, come on now. That wasn't even three minutes. What does he have to do to not think about Hermann. concuss himself on the seat tray?

Desperate for distraction, he reaches under his seat and pulls out his carry on. Sure, he has the isle seat, so he could have stored the backpack up top and gave himself more leg room. This is the only time being short has ever come in handy though, so he takes advantage of it every time. Plus, once he had some asshole's bag land on top of his own, which cracked his old Tablet's screen in half. He never used the storage compartment again.

Newton unzips his ratty backpack. It's black and blue, lacking any Kaiju or Godzilla figures on it. Inside is an assortment of snacks he had squirreled away at the Shatterdome. Most of which he's been rationing since the companies are all out of business. Then, below the junk food, is his battered Ipod and Tablet.

He snatches the Tablet and shoves the bag back down under his feet. Careful not to step on it and crush his snacks. It'll be a few hours until they feed him his in-flight meal and he's libel to get peckish before that. Nothing sucks so much as crushed Honeybuns. Except maybe crushed cupcakes, but he didn't have any of those. So he's extra careful to not damage the few good snacks he has left.

The Tablet powers on almost immediately when he hits the button. It's not a mass produced piece of garbage like most of the PPDC had been forced to use. This is one of only two in the world. He had built the pair from scratch and Hermann had written the OS for them. Meaning this thing was probably the fastest, most bad ass Tablet in the world. It could run dozens of programs at one time, hundreds of dozens if you needed it to. Hermann had been very specific on how much he wanted the electronic to be capable of. It had taken a lot of work to get the twin Tablets built to withstand the mathematician's coding.

On the other hand, this thing could play video games like no one's business.

He pulls his ticket receipt out of his hoodie pocket and finds the random bunch of letters and numbers that make up the wireless password. Hermann has a program built into these things that will decode passwords without any fuss if you need it to. It's easier to put it in manually then wait the fifteen minutes for the Tablet to crack it though.

He grins behind his wadded-up napkins when he sees the ' _connected!_ ' sign appear in the corner of the screen.

As soon as internet registers to the Tablet it pulls up his homepage online. Which is his PPDC e-mail account. Yes, that was Hermann idea. No, Newt did not get to pick. The mathematician had been very determined that Newton was never going to miss an email ever again just because he _'forgot to check while playing a game_ '. So every time he wants to do anything online he has to see his email first. It used to be annoying, but it has proven useful in the past few years.

So he barely even pays attention to the horde of spam in his folder, and is about to open a new tab and find some flash game or science article to keep him entertained when his eyes catch the most recent email.

He freezes cold. Barely able to breath. Shit, of course he would send an email.

From: DrHGott@PPDC.Gov – _Newton Read This_

He stares at the header for a good two minutes. He doesn't even need to open the damned thing to know Hermann is pissed. If the tag line is something that commanding he has obviously royally fucked up.

Should he read it? He's never _not_ read one of Hermann emails. Even the mean ones where Hermann is just continuing an argument because either of them have stormed off and are done with yelling. Newt can't think of a single instance where he hasn't at least glanced at what was being sent to him. Nor a time he didn't send something back. Of course his email usually amounted to no more then a 'Y _eah Hermie, whateves_ '. But still, the point remains.

His finger hovers over the email. He notices, vaguely, he's shaking and his eyes have gone just slightly blurred.

From:DrHGott@PPDC.Gov **–** _Newton Read This_

He can't, he can't read it.

Newton moves his hand away from the email and moves it to the top of the screen. He closes his eyes and taps at the 'empty inbox' button.

When he looks back, the Tablet is still on his email page, but the background is now clear. There is a simple message that reads ' _No new emails_ ' stretched across the middle of the screen.

He knows the email is just laying in his trash can, but he can't bring himself to empty the other bin. He feels like he's already personally betrayed Hermann by just deleting the email and not reading it. Truly removing it from his inbox forever feels like committing high treason.

His eyes burn, he wants to scream and throw the Tablet all the way to first class to get it away from him.

He closes his eyes so the tears won't be able to escape, and lays the Tablet flat in his lap.

Well, so much for distracting himself from thinking about Hermann.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, The last few reviews made me so happy! Also, I made a fanmix lol
> 
> https://8tracks.com/weirdscience/some-kind-of-joke (8Tracks link)
> 
> http://who-stole-ryders-star.tumblr.com/post/66639518944/pacific-rim-fanmix (Link to my Tumblr for track list)
> 
> Some of the songs won't make sense for a while yet, but maybe you'll be able to figure something out if you listen (eyebrows wriggle)


	8. Like A Child With A New Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you know?  
> Apparently children trapped on planes tend to go stir crazy.

Newton has never been so relieved to be off a plane in his life.

He'll even forgive the fact he has to get on another one in two hours and is currently stranded in YVR. Anything is better then the hell he had just been put through in the last twelve hours.

Did you know children tend to go stir crazy when confined for long periods of time? Especially when there was only been one animated inflight movie available? Which, while 'Finding Nemo' had been great when it came out 20 years ago, it apparently was not what these kinds had in mind for 12 hours of entertainment. 

So, of course, instead of dealing with their children. The adults had let the little hellions run rampant.

Jean and Yao had firmly hidden themselves away. Either having foreseen the imminent child attack, or lacked the caffeine necessary to remain awake. Either way, the steward duo had been unscathed by the sudden mass of screaming boys and girls running amok in the cabin.

Newton had not been so fortunate. Apparently, kids thought it was cool to come up to the bleeding dude who had nearly been eaten by a Kaiju and pester him. Most of them nattering away in various Asian dialects that he didn't understand half of. He knew Japanese, German, and Spanish okay? Hermann was the one who had bothered to learn conversational Chinese, Newt only knew what had remained behind after the drift. Which honestly wasn't a whole hell of a lot. Memories? Sure, got 'em for days. Sudden acquisition of new abilities like math-powers and understanding Chinese? Nope, could barely string a coherent sentence together before and after. No miraculous skill gains to be made.

So, he'd had little boys and girls practically crawling all over him for hours now, and only two of the children understood English. It had fallen on them to translate anything Newton said back to the amassed horde.

Don't be surprised. Of course he had talked back. Who do you think he is? There was a posse of enthralled, wide-eyed, impressionable young people asking about the Kaiju. He was going to talk shop until they either fell asleep or wandered away. Uninterested in the more technical, biological mambo-jumbo of his job.

The kids had not wandered away. Most of them fell asleep piled up in the aisle. Which was a safety hazard if there ever was one.

Various parents and embarrassed relatives alike had come to gather up their wayward progeny. Dragging the yawning, or unconscious, children back to their seats.

Newt's throat ached from talking for so long. He'd had two nosebleeds while he was ' _lecturing_ '. Which meant he had been talking for close to four hours by the time most of the kids conked out. Then, after the inflight meal and waking from their naps, almost every one of the boys and girls had wiggled away from their guardians and started the cycle over again. Coming back with more questions and outlandish stories for the two multilingual boys to translate to Newton.

Newt hadn't been child free until he got off the plane.

He takes a deep breath. Relishing in the lack of children invading his space, stretches once, and sets out to find some food.

Economy class meals do not even scratch the surface of edible. It doesn't matter that the world isn't immediately ending anymore. Rations and food availability are still limited everywhere. Even on leisure flights it seems.

Considering he'd been living the high carb life for the past few months. Bread, noodles, potatoes, even actual fruit. The plane had been abysmally stocked compared to the Shatterdome.

He moves through the terminal slowly. This actually marks the first time he's been to YVR, so it's sort of a novelty. It's pretty similar to every other Airport he's ever been trapped in. Lots of windows, high vaulted ceilings with sky lights, white support pillars of varying sizes up and down the terminals. The floors in the waiting areas are carpeted in diamond patterned baby blue, while the rest of the floors are slate gray and off-white tiles.

All in all, it looks like every other Airport in the world. He's not impressed.

He's even less impressed when he nearly walks straight into the child play area while scanning the various food options available in the International Terminal. The airports novelty instantly vanishes when he gets recognized by a group of the kids he had just escaped.

 _'Nope!'_ he thinks as he spins on his heel and takes off in the general direction of the American Terminal.

“Děng yīxià!” One of the little hellions yells. Climbing off the play equipment after the retreating biologist.

Newt does not _'Wait!_ ' or _'Hold On!_ ' or whatever that phrase translates to, he doesn't know and doesn't really want to. He sure as hell isn't going to be trapped for another two hours explaining, in excruciating detail, the silicone makeup of Kaiju skin for a herd of ten year old’s. Not doing it, nope. His throat still hurts from the last two impromptu lectures and he's got maybe 10 minutes before another nosebleed hits.

So he does the adult thing and runs like the hounds of hell are nipping at his heels. He can vaguely hear the unhappy whines and moans behind him as the kids are all corralled back by their guardians. Thank God. At least this time they decided to wrangle their children back.

He slows down only when he get to the American Terminal. Panting slightly and having to re-shoulder his backpack from where it's started to fall off.

It's not that Newton dislikes children. Honestly, he really likes them, a whole lot! Most are far easier to deal with then adults, and way more fun to hang out with. He's just never....Been around them much. Chuck and Mako are the only two 'kids' he's ever really known, and they had both been entering their teens when he'd meet them.

He's also been told by various people through the years he would make for a pretty shitty father. Which, yeah, he can see it. Monster tattoos and manic episodes probably wouldn't make for great parent material. Newt wouldn't really know, he sort of jumped the family ship when his scholarship for MIT went through. He and his dad kept in contact but not really – like - constant contact? He doesn't know. There could be months in between calls and it hadn't bothered either of them.

Whatever, point remains. Newton likes kids, but they make him nervous. He doesn't want to deal with a posse of them if he doesn't have to. He also doesn't really know how to deal with kids in a one-on-one adult-to-child setting.

So either way, it's just better if he's not around them.

He shakes the strangely somber feelings off and meanders through the white halls, in search of food. There are a couple of quick lines for things like Burger King and Cinnabon, but there also happens to be an actual restaurant still open. Hallelujah, he's still got almost two hours to kill and sitting down to eat sounds wonderful.

Also, it's a _'Bar & Grill_' if the name is to be believed.

Fantastic, a bar sounded like an excellent place to be right about now, and to remain for the foreseeable future.

No kids at the bar at least. He'll be plenty alone as he knocks back cheap domestics and chokes down whatever rationed fair they're bothering to doctor up in the kitchen.

Yep, alone. Just how he likes it.

Newt winces, and makes his way into the darker interior of the restaurant.

All alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Was this bit necessary?" I hear you ask, and I reply that yes. Dear Reader, It is in fact paramount to the story that this bit be included.  
> Also - completely related - how many of you like children?  
> >:D hahaha


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